On The Front
by xtwilightzx
Summary: Surviving on the warfront, where values are turned upside down and life defies logic, is when the ties that bind are the most important. [interconnected shots focusing on the RoyEd relationship]
1. In The Dark

**On The Front**

It was in here, in the dark, that they found an odd sort of limbo, a little pocket of air where neither of them were alchemists and tied to the military.

**Author's Note**I don't know what kind of mood I was in that prompted me to write this, but it was late, I was tired from studying for exams and this is the product. Ed's older – about eighteen here.

_**FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu. **_

-----

As one of the highest ranking officers and senior state alchemist on the filed, Roy Mustang was privileged with the one thing most personnel in the military lacked – the gift of privacy. And as he had so many years previous, he bent the rules just slightly in regards to one blonde haired young man – Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist.

They didn't do much that night – could not, when they were surrounded by an army of wary soldiers, separated only by the thin grey canvas and the virtue of power and authority that kept others hungry for a bit of shelter – any scant comfort in this desolate scene – from walking in on them. The narrow low cot and coarse blanket were further impediments, but it wasn't physical restrictions that kept their kisses light and their touches chaste, sliding slow and warm across smooth skin in languid gestures.

The night air was cool, and the darkness a balm against his eyes, sore and sensitive from the heat of the day and the gritty sandy smoke his fire threw out when combusted. He shut his eyes briefly, relishing the black on black behind his eyes and felt lips caress against his eyelids with butterfly flutters.

It was in here, in the dark, that they found an odd sort of limbo, a little pocket of air where he wasn't the Colonel, the young man within his arms wasn't on a lifetime's hunt for the elusive Philosopher's Stone and neither of them were alchemists and tied to the military. It was a fact that was hard to forget, with the azure blue military coat and the twin pocket watches staring at him from their position atop a small trunk across the tent, but he kept his attention pointedly away from such reminders, focusing instead on the slender frame nestled against him.

Edward was silent, and that silence rang true and pure, no banter or insults exchanged, no orders from a superior to his subordinate coming between them. There were no angry accusations, playful teases, no seductive purrs or moans – nothing of the sort – just soft silence and tender touches, because the two of them spoke best through their actions, untainted and untouched by the razor-tinted edge of mystery and deceit all words spoken by a man planning a coup against the top and another hiding a forbidden act invariably contained.

Their exchanged touches were slow, unhurried and performed with utmost attention, as if they had the rest of forever to enjoy and knew they were in no hurry. They usually came together in a burst of fiery explosion, like the alchemy Roy so loved, clashing over some issue, kissing in heat and wet passion. Slow and silent were not adjectives associated with either the Flame or Fullmetal, and because of that, it made this night all the more sweeter.

Edward was like a banked ember, his spirit contained but still wild, still untamed, tendrils of that heat evident even in his most relaxed moments. They kept skin contact, never fully separating from each other, clinging to that shared touch like it was their last breath of fresh air. Edward embodied so much of what he loved of life – the passion, sharp features and face that promised lifelong loyalty and determination, the slender frame that was able to give as good as it got. The quick cunning mind, the same dark taints in his past that enabled them to empathize with each other the way none of Roy's previous liaisons ever could, even that overreactive anger Roy enjoyed coaxing with a jab or two about the subject of height. And last but definitely not least, was Edward himself, his hair a gleam of gold on the rough sheets, molten amber eyes trailing Roy's every movement, the heavy automail merely enhancing the young man's indomitable spirit.

Flames fed on air, thrived in the harshest areas, and this was one fire that would never die.

And only as the lone bird outside crooned in anticipation of the coming morning did either of them sit up, Roy plucking a small comb from the recesses of his coat and drawing the other against him, carefully brushing the unruly mane into a sleek waterfall of gold. The slouch in Edward's spine conveyed his mild exasperation, but he allowed Roy to toy with his hair. The way he held himself still, however, his head tilted at a slight angle to give Roy full contact betrayed his silent enjoyment. It was like weaving liquid gold, Roy mused, as he split the thick tail into three and began braiding. If luck was solid and palpable, this was what it would feel like. This was one activity that Roy partook as often as the younger man would let him, all his attention focused into a narrow band, giving him the chance to just _be_.

On the one hand, it was just hair, the chore of drawing it up and tucking it sensibly out of the way, but on the other hand, it was incredibly intimate, the act of brushing, of allowing another into one's personal space, with sure access to those vulnerable critical points – the temples, the bared throat.

In someone as intensely private and paranoid as Edward, it was an amazing act of trust.

They dressed quietly, the soft whisper of cloth on cloth the only noise, reconstructing their respective masks the same way they bundled up in so many layers of fabric. Roy was just slipping his watch into his pocket when Edward stepped up to him, eyes hooded and solemn, pressing soft lips against his for a moment. Something small and metallic slipped into his open palm, Edward nipping down against his lower lip at the same time before stalking out, gold braid flicking in his wake.

It was a lighter, which a silver exterior and a cap that promised to keep the small spark flint within securely dry and contained. Roy's alchemic symbol and the array that usually adorned his spark gloves were emblazoned on its side.

Curious, he followed the other out, ducking under the flap and coming out beside the younger man, remembering that out here appearances mattered and kept an obvious distance between them.

He glanced up at the clear, ghostly predawn sky – not a cloud in sight.

Turning back, he met the deep golden eyes that had never left his, the gleaming silver of the lighter a cold contrast on his skin.

Solemnly, a hint of a smile on his lips, Roy pocketed the gift, long slender fingers brushing gently against the shielding bangs, barely grazing one cheek in silent thanks.

"Watch the left front; the enemy is desperate and might take any means to bring our sentries down," he said. A smirk – "I'm sure they'll stare right over your head; you won't even register, but you never know. If you're lucky they'll just trip on you."

Edward replied with a low growl and stare that said _watch _yourself_, old man_ and snapped a mock salute in his direction.

And as the sun dawned with the glory of golden red alchemic fire, they separated in opposite directions, scarlet coat and blue jacket flapping briefly in the stiff wind, the Fullmetal and Flame Alchemists on the war front once more.

end

_**Reviews are always much beloved. **_


	2. Promises to Keep

**On The Front**

Most of all, a part of him admitted, he wanted to come home to his annoying, alluring Colonel.

**Author's Note: **So I was bitten by the plot bunny bug and decided to somewhat continue this "series." This is probably going to become a series of interconnected shots – more like flashes of Roy and Ed's life on the warfront. It would help if you read the earlier entries because I'll be playing off some details in the beginning chapters. (like Ed's reflections on the lighter, which made its appearance in the first chapter). More notes at the end on where this is going…

Polished and shined by my beloved beta, **starstruck272**.

_**FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu. **_

**-----**

It was eerily silent all around him, save the steady crunch of his black boots upon the gravel strewn land beneath his feet. It was an unnatural silence, like the calm just before the storm: an unnatural void that spoke of a lack of life. The hush stalked him, raised the fine hairs at the back of his neck and set all his senses on sharp alert. Like a deadly plague, the war had driven all wildlife away and destroyed most of the natural habitat, leaving a barren blight on the face of the earth.

Ed wore his concentration around him like a protective cloak, and tried to put the memories of last night in a secure corner of his mind where it would not distract him, except he kept hearing an undertone beat.

It wasn't that he had forgotten, or even allowed another goal to overshadow the most critical promise he had made in his short life, but the slow, thrumming thud of a heartbeat just under his ear was addicting and calming at the same time.

Edward Elric was never well-known for his patience. Like his constant illogical outbursts about his height, his immediate reaction to the realization that grudging respect had turned a deadly distracting _something_, he immediately took steps to confront it, for once not consulting his brother and walking this road alone.

Edward wasn't the type of person to lie to himself. He wasn't the type that anyone took advantage of either. So when he crashed into Mustang's office late one night, stared his superior in the eye and deliberately dragged the dark head down towards him to partake in a heated but oddly contained kiss, the Colonel didn't ask any questions. When Edward had paused for a moment, amber eyes aglow behind his fringe of gold, glaring up in challenge into those deep sapphire orbs and sharp features, Mustang merely spoke one sentence.

"You've been adult enough to enter the military at the age of twelve, and the years have granted you the maturity you lacked at that age; I dare say you won't regret this decision, Fullmetal?"

Edward crossed another doorway that night, one that he had consciously chosen despite all the insecurities and obstacles his quick mind kept tossing in his path.

After all, the young blonde man had always flirted with the forbidden – dancing between the lines of physical attraction and no small amount of lust, the danger of Roy being caught for fraternization never quite overcoming good common sense. Roy seemed willing to risk it all; in the clear-cut world of equivalency, Edward was fine with their strange relationship and never asked for more.

They never talked about it, never went through the conventional period of courtship. Roy never wooed him, had hardly showed deference towards him other than in terms of age and experience, perhaps. That, most of all, was what drew Edward towards the man in the first place. For a child that had been singled out and marked for most of his life, the sudden, almost anonymity of being regarded as _that annoying brat _he enjoyed with Roy was almost a blessing.

It was always volatile mercury and sparks between them. Mustang was sleek, manipulative and serenely cool; Edward was the catalyst tossed into the equation that always managed to break the Flame's equilibrium. He had enjoyed it for a time - loved watching that calm, calm façade shimmer and fall apart, those blue eyes grow dark with irritation, his confident attitude quickly degrading to resemble that of a haughty, sulking tomcat. At night, between the sheets in a dimly lit room, they grappled for dominance. The change between them was undeniable, the animosity that had always crackled in their midst gradually tinting with sexual tension.

It wasn't until Edward found that he no longer thought of the man as the _Flame_, _Colonel_, _Mustang_ but just as plain Roy that he started to suspect. One night, when he was content to lie still, skin flush against bare skin, head tucked just above Roy's heart, he knew.

That one night, Edward had closed his eyes, listening to the life-melody of Roy's heartbeat thudding reassuringly under his ear, and acknowledged that somewhere along this eccentric, bumpy road, his mix of _respect/attraction_ had turned into deep-seated love.

He wasn't as adverse to the idea as he had always imagined himself to be.

Today, the Fullmetal and Flame Alchemist walked the warfronts, taking the offensive in two completely different directions in an effort to push the enemy back. With a grim smile, his hair a blazing beacon even amidst the dust clouds, Ed clapped his hands together, blue alchemic energy already flashing even before he worked the alchemy needed to bring a small earthquake down on the heads of his enemies.

He didn't like killing, half-glad he had been forbidden to engage the enemy at close enough range to fight with his transmuted automail blade, making the deaths more personal… and yet, he hated using his alchemy this way; a long distance, dehumanizing killing.

He'd leave the battle zone with scars on his body and on his soul, but he thought of Al, of the long-sought feelings he had finally found in Winry, of Aunt Pinako, Rizembul, the almost-home town of Dublin, and all the civilian folk in Central. Then there were all the personnel in Roy's division, all of them friends forged with trust. As a state alchemist, he was duty and honor bound to fight for the military, but it was not duty that Edward willingly joined the war for.

Most of all, a part of him admitted, he wanted to come home to his annoying, alluring Colonel. With the grace of a sleek panther, Roy had taken Edward's changing feelings in stride, adjusting to the metamorphosis of their relationship as their time together became more intimate, tempered and filled more with comfortable silences of companionship rather than their previous, fast-paced actions. The change came as natural as breathing and alchemy.

Natural as it had been, however, Ed hadn't come right out and admitted to Roy that there was more than just physical lust and attraction between them. His dignity and a small childish side (that he would _never _admit out loud; barely even tolerated thinking, in fact) of him wouldn't allow him to do so. That was, of course, until he had finally grabbed the horse by the reigns and shoved that lighter into Roy's all-too talented fingers.

The idea had stormed on him out of the blue, like one of his genius leaps of insight, just the week after increased reports of scuffles inching closer to Amestris' borders could no longer be denied and tension in individual units were beginning to reach a peak high. Intelligence had been lax, and while Maes Hughes was well able to nip most falsehoods in the bud and dish out more encouraging propaganda, he was but one man, and rumors had their own way of evolving and multiplying.

Roy Mustang's division was well trained and handpicked by the Colonel and his immediate officers, but even they weren't free from the influences of emotion. Eventually, Roy ordered his second to gather everyone in the division on the grounds, and went out personally to staunch the panic.

The weather had whipped up huge sullen storm clouds to suit the state of the crowd. Edward and most of Roy's subordinates had been scattered amongst the masses to better gauge the situation while the Colonel took center stage before everyone. Flanked by Hawkeye and Havoc, Roy had lifted one hand, preparing to send a gouge of flames licking harmlessly above the mass to gain their attention, and snapped just as a blinding shock of lightning split the sky and set a lone tree at the edge of the ground ablaze.

The crowd had been stunned into silence. By the quick flicker of surprise that touched the Flame's eyes, he hadn't expected that either.

As the rain broke free of the heavens and thundered down towards earth and awe-struck whispers began to spring up around him, Ed distantly noted that that quick stunt of Roy's, however impromptu it was, managed to raise the division's morale. Bangs plastered across his cheeks, his cloak slowly soaking through, he could only see how terribly vulnerable Roy was out here, spark-gloves drenched and only a single sidearm on his person.

Flame alchemy and impeccable stunt notwithstanding, Roy was only human. And the solution of a lighter, so blindingly obvious, had obviously not registered with the man. Edward almost had a fit right there and then at his Colonel's stupidity.

Of course, in the midst of constructing the little gadget, the lighter began to represent more. It was just a silly lighter – Edward had to go through some elaborate scheming to steal one of Roy's gloves for array reference, not because he couldn't come up with one himself but because he wanted the stupid thing to be _tuned_ to Roy. At the end of it all Edward began wondering why it _meant_ so much, and why he kept finding reasons not to give the lighter to Roy. It was staring to sound like stories of love-sick girls Havoc kept riling about, something about getting the timing and mood _right_.

Good grief, he was turning sappy.

_you better survive, bastard, because I've finally found a reason beyond redemption to live and I'll be damned if I let you die because of a little water and your love for flashiness_.

War was ugly. Somewhere along all of this, Edward knew he was going to have to face the consequences of every action he made. Every blow he struck could potentially cripple the recipient, and with each alchemic reaction he could be creating widows and orphans. Then again, he could say the same for the "enemy." Neither could afford to be merciful.

There was a metallic scent in the air, fused with the dry earthy tang of overturned soil. His back was hunched awkwardly underneath the tentative shelter of a large rock rather, listening sharply for the telltale clink of bullet against stone or even the imperceptible crunch of dry leaves under boots. Either clue might aid in his survival.

_I'll be back_, Ed had immediately thought to himself as he and Roy walked their separate ways, and it was as sure a promise as the one he had made to Al all those years ago, both of which he intended to fulfill and were tucked side by side in his heart.

He leaped out, a mild alchemic reaction thrumming in his wake, heading full speed for tactically sound terrain and leaving his conspicuous red coat behind.

And if his grin held a little too much teeth in it, no one noticed.

end

**More AN: **First off, this is not a particularly plot-driven series. I want to focus on Roy and Ed's characters as well as their relationship, and how the war situation affects all of that. Yes, these two chapters have been rather introspective (how I drown in introspection). The other scenes in my head, if they go as planned, will involve more interaction, more conversation, and a larger view of the war situation.

Where is this going? I really have no idea. I don't think I'll ever be very specific about who is warring against Amestris. At the moment, the Sins aren't going to be involved. Some loose ends _will_ tied up (such as where Al is), and Ed's claim that he and Roy never quite talked about their relationship is going to come back and trip him. Because alchemists might be good at interpretation, but some things have to be spoken clearly in a relationship.

As always, reviews are much beloved.


	3. Priorities

**On The Front  
Chapter 3 – Priorities **

**Author's Note: **This has been sitting on my hard-drive for a good two months, all written except for one tiny scene. Real life got horribly in the way however – moving halfway around the world, going without internet for two weeks, and than the period of adjusting/starting classes/midterms swept in. Apologies – this could have been up so sooner. And amazing! This is growing a plot, vague and nebulous though it is.

_**FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu. **_

**-----**

"Come on, Fury. It's for your own good! Go bother the Colonel."

"Um… why would I want to?"

"Because it'll lighten the atmosphere."

"Second Lieutenant, we're in a war zone. Wouldn't that just put him in a fouler mood?"

"Nah. If we don't go and prod him once in a while, he'll just stew in front of the fire for the next five hours and than he'll be even crankier than usual. He keeps those spark gloves of his on hand cause of the war, you know, and we all know what _that_ means…"

"I suppose that's true... but why can't _you_ go talk to him, Second Lieutenant? You seem to understand the Colonel far better than I do."

"No way. He'd roast me simply because I'm _happy_ with just my cigarette's company. Well… comparatively, that is."

Riza Hawkeye was starting to get a headache. It wasn't because she had been cramped in a series of hastily dug trenches, eye pressed to the target of her rifle watching over her Colonel as he moved far beyond backup. It wasn't even because she had barely scrapped seven hours of sleep over the past two days.

No, it was simply because her two subordinates were indiscreetly discussing ways of "cheering" up the Colonel, and it consisted of one of them rousing said man from whatever moodiness that had struck him this time. If they were back in the office, this feat would prove easier to carry out – they'd simply swamp him with an abundance of work, or Riza would practice her aim at the Colonel's dark head, and if things went too far, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes would magically appear and drag the Colonel's sorry carcass to some bar to drown their sorrows.

Of course, they found a far more effective way of late, which consisted of snagging one irate blonde alchemist by the arm, tossing him into the Colonel's office and shutting the door behind them. The problem was trying to tune out the angry shouts and arguments that ensued, and later trying to ignore the equally loud ramifications of the sudden silence behind closed doors. Riza didn't approve of this method at all – too distracting for everyone – but Havoc pointed out that Edward always managed to put Roy in his place, and he was always the one who waylaid the state alchemist. If anything went wrong, Riza had decided, the blame would lie solely with Havoc.

Since they were _not_ in the office, none of the remedies would work. Even if Lieutenant Colonel Hughes had appeared in their midst, and was egging on both Havoc and Fury to boot.

Riza's headache intensified tenfold.

"What's this I hear; Roy's brooding darkly again? Why, dear man, he must be _wilting_ from not seeing my precious Elysia for the few months. You know how much he adores her. I think it's withdrawal!"

"If you say so, Lieutenant Colonel. Uh, I'm sure Elysia's a sweet girl, but I don't think-"

"And I only have one photograph of her on me! I didn't want them to be burned or dropped while we're in war territory. That means there's none to spare for Roy!"

"If only Black Hayate were here, he'd cheer the Colonel up! Didn't he say he loves dogs? They're such great companions."

"Too bad we don't have any blondes here. Well, there's Hawkeye, but-"

Shoving her gun into its holster, Riza stood up and pulled the standard black trench coat tightly around her. "Gentlemen," she said pleasantly, her voice snapping like audible gunfire. The three men froze, expecting bullets to rain about their persons. Riza hid a tiny smile. Contrary to popular belief, she wasn't trigger-happy; every shot she took was made with the people she loved and admired in mind. Sadly, said people were usually one Colonel and his dysfunctional subordinates, even if she usually ended up making targets out of their heads.

"Don't you think this is getting fairly ridiculous? Just pick someone and send him along to the Colonel. It'll be enough to distract him," Riza continued, the littlest hint of impatience present.

"I can't do it," Fury said sheepishly. "I have perimeter duty right about now."

Havoc scowled at the smaller man's fading back and only turned back to Riza when her gaze fell upon him like a predator eyeing its prey. "No-can-do, First Lieutenant. You always told me I put my foot in my mouth with everything I say, and that won't help the Colonel, will it?"

Riza narrowed her eyes. "If you remember that, why don't you ever remember what I said about smoking?"

Havoc grinned wolfishly at her, lit cigarette between his lips. "Never in the office, and always outdoors. We're outdoors now."

Riza decided the best course was to ignore him, and turned to the only (and most obvious) choice. "Sir?"

"Not this time, no," Hughes chuckled softly. "We all know there's only one person Roy really wants to see right now, and he is neither dark-haired nor bespectacled like I am."

Riza exchanged glances with Havoc. "Speaking of which, why are you here, sir? I thought you were stationed with General Hakuro at our central outpost."

Hughes took off his glasses and began wiping them with one sleeve. "The General has orders for Roy," he said slowly, "and some high security information that we dare not trust with normal runners. That's another reason why I can't go and whack some sense into Roy this time. Duty dictates that if I see him, military comes first, and we'll end up talking business until the sunrises." He replaced his glasses and looked straight at Riza. "It's better if someone can talk to Roy first."

She heard the crackle of dry wood snapping under a footfall and whirled around, Havoc mirroring her actions a split second later. Her gun was already out and ready before she registered the small figure stepping out of the shadows, golden hair the most visible part of him in the dark.

"Edward." She called, and behind her Havoc relaxed.

"What has the bastard done this time?" Edward asked tiredly. "And where the hell is he?"

Silence reigned for a long moment before Riza spoke up. "Nothing. He's done nothing. He's over there, about twenty feet away, but…" she trailed off, eyes sliding towards Hughes.

"Its fine," Hughes smiled, all white shining teeth. "The orders will keep until morning – Roy knows of most of it already. Go ahead, Ed," he prompted the young man, "I have Elysia to keep me company." Suiting words to action, he pulled out a glossy picture of his daughter and stared starry-eyed at it.

Exchanging another glance with Havoc, Riza moved forward to guide Edward to the little niche the Colonel had holed himself up in. They were in rocky, shrubby territory, and the geography of their camp location made it easier to set sentries.

They moved until they could just make out Roy's dark head just beyond a campfire, where Riza choose to leave Ed. The young man was uncharacteristically subdue, dark smudges evident under his eyes. Most of them had spent days on high alert, defending their perimeter, but the state alchemists had been out flushing the enemy from the surrounding area.

"Edward," she said softly, touching his shoulder briefly to catch his attention. "Thank you."

He blinked slightly, becoming more alert. "Why are you thanking me?"

Riza smiled enigmatically. "You know why!" she called behind her shoulder, slipping another glance at the Colonel before walking away.

-----

He couldn't drink even though he wanted to badly; as the highest ranking commander on site and one of their regiment's greatest offensive powers, Roy couldn't afford dulling his senses even minimally. They were currently camped in wild terrain – a small outcrop of the army sent off-route almost perpendicular to their goal. Whether they were in reserves or set for some other purpose, Roy didn't quite know, but he suspected General Hakuro tugging on strings to isolate Roy and the officers most loyal to him in a remote location and simply… _forgetting_ about them. Roy had taken steps at the first hints of the General's suspected plans, and he hoped it was enough to derail all such plots.

Either way, he and his men were edging towards an unfamiliar territory, where general forests and grassland eventually melted into rough shrubbery and dryer soil. Consequently, the days were oppressively hot and conversely, the nights were noticeably cooler.

Roy directed another futile stare at the maps and plans piled across his lap before rolling them up tightly and stowing them away. He had quite a reputation for being the youngest Colonel in the army, but that rank wasn't quite high enough in the social ladder to cover all his backdoors. It was conceivable for General Hakuro to lure Roy's regiment out, and for the older man to discreetly send out a force to erase them from Amestris' history. Roy's team was certainly small enough, with only two scores of men including most of his immediate officers. It was even more worrisome that his entire team had been ordered to stand their ground three days out from the main army and yet Roy had been authorized to journey ahead in offensive. His skills were formidable, but alone, he was vulnerable.

There was no position safe enough, authoritative enough, than the rank of Fuhrer, and Roy deeply suspected that that title would kill him, even if it meant peace and sanity to the land of Amestris.

The General even had the gall to order his division out when Fullmetal was absent, fighting northwest and counterpoint to Roy's former northeast direction. He wasn't terribly worried; come hell or high water, Edward would find his way to their camp, possibly treading on a few toes along the way and ripping strips out of anyone that tried to stop him, if need to be. It irked Roy all the same, even if nothing penetrated his calm mask as he nodded assent and lead his men away. Ed was an officer under _his_ command, _his_ authority and he _belonged_ here, with the people who knew him and knew the truth.

In between the strain of watching for a plot from above, dealing with decidedly fidgety men who had been ordered to stay at camp and his own fatigue from using alchemy at an extended period, Roy didn't notice how much Ed's absence discomfited him until the young man showed up.

"Mustang, the First Lieutenant's acting strange; your whole office is acting strange."

Some fighter's instinct had spun Roy around mere seconds before the voice spoke, and yet he found it hard to contain a small twitch of surprise when his gaze settled on the slight figure standing before the fire. The blaze threw an odd play of light and shadow over Ed's face, highlighting his hair into molten gold but not quite hiding the minute signs of exhaustion on the blonde's face.

"Of course I know. I'm not blind and deaf to their little chit-chat sessions as they like to think I am," Roy replied nonchalantly, studying the young man with a critical eye. He wasn't operating on much – in someone as prone to wild explosions of anger and brilliant flashes of alchemic reaction, the sudden stillness and silence around Ed was jarringly out of place.

There wasn't much holding the blonde up, Roy knew, other than his pride and sheer strength of will.

Roy resisted the urge to reach out and touch the young man. Ed's aloofness was a fair indication that he wasn't in any mood for any of Roy's usual tricks or teasing. Very well. He'll play the role of concerned superior until Ed was ready to reach out.

"Long journey?" Roy asked casually, an opened question that left amble creativity for answers that could take dozens of paths.

"Terrible," Ed replied, obviously deciding to keep the conversation on a general level. "damn you, bastard, for sending me out and then abandoning me behind. I had to leave the central post almost before I reached it to catch you on time."

"Catch me on time?" Roy snagged onto that hook. "Did you talk to General Hakuro at all?" It wasn't inconceivable for the man to try to turn one of Roy's own against him. After all, the general consensus regarding his and Edward's relationship was that the Fullmetal Alchemist was grudgingly subordinate to the Flame, only leaping through the hoops the Colonel set out in order to gain as much freedom from the military as possible.

"No," Ed's eyes narrowed slightly, "I didn't. Turns out the General had sent someone with instructions for you; I had to sneak past an entire army full of hyper-alert and paranoid soldiers to avoid being forced to report in – do you know hard that is?" He shook his head roughly, like a wolf trying to shake water droplets and burrs free of its coat. "I was briefed by one of Hughes' men, a rather promising sneaky fellow. He took the initiative to seek me out – he's as good as gold for Intelligence."

"I'll let Hughes know." Roy replied absently, chewing on that tidbit of information for a long moment, until his own sharp instincts caught the half-angry gaze arrowed on him.

"Was that all you wanted to know, Mustang?"

"What?" There was an odd glint that Roy didn't like in those deep golden eyes. "No, of course not, I-"

The use of his last name, curt and distant, sprang alarms in Roy's head. There had been a challenge in that tone, a strong stubbornness engrained in the blonde's features, and Roy wasn't sure why Ed was acting so belligerent when he was exhausted to the bone…

It had been a long week and a half since they parted, a dizzying time where the long stretches of _waiting_ between the short hours of sheer adrenaline-rush made the entire situation even more surreal.

He raised one gloved hand, speaking very softly. "Edward. Ed. Come here."

And like the key that twisted a lock open and freed a prisoner from its bonds, Roy's words sent Ed stumbling in his direction. He changed direction at the last moment, however, dropping heavily onto the rock next to Roy instead of grabbing the proffered hand as Roy had expected.

"Ed," Roy reiterated, catching the younger man by one shoulder, and felt him flinch away slightly, an action that merely prompted Roy to tighten his grip. Ed's hands were wrapped around each other, but now Roy could see that they were trembling slightly. He reached forward instinctively, pulling off one of his spark gloves and peeling back Ed's. His human hand was icy, while the automail was cooler by several degrees.

"Edward. Are you cold?" he asked redundantly, speaking whatever came to mind to make the blonde focus on his words, moving even before the younger man could nod a weary affirmative. With swift, graceful movements, Roy took off his trench coat and draped it across Ed's shoulders, enveloping the small form within its voluminous folds.

He had noticed the absence of Ed's signature red coat the moment the blonde had appeared, but…

Ed had tugged Roy's trench coat in close, leaning out slightly towards the fire, eyes half-slit and heavy. His entire posture screamed stiff and aloofness, and Roy quickly smothered a grin even if the blonde was in no condition to notice.

_Stubborn_, he chuckled softly to himself, _stubborn about asking for anything that might be regarded as soft_.

Reaching forward, Roy gently clamped one hand around Ed's head, reeling him inwards so that the younger man laid against him side to side, head lying in the hollow where neck flowed into shoulder. Shifting his grip to a more comfortable position around Ed's waist, Roy stared pointedly at the fire and waited.

Ed held stiff for a good two seconds and relaxing abruptly, growling almost grudgingly as he moved closer.

Roy smiled.

"What happened to that tent you were entitled to?"

"It's been temporarily converted into a medical center," Roy told him. "Snakebites are rampant in this location; we've been lucky so far, but it's best to be prepared. I can get it back, if you like."

"No. I like this. Besides, Hawkeye and Havoc are stationed like guard dogs at the only logical entrance to this place. It's enough space for me."

"That's good to know."

"Roy. Are you cold?" Ed whispered, picking lightly at the black material.

"Me? No. My military jacket is thick enough for now." Roy reached forward and ran light fingers through the blonde fringe, tugging playfully on a few strands. "Don't worry, I won't freeze. I'm the Flame Alchemist for a reason, after all."

"Wasn't worried," Ed summoned some of his usual acerbity to retort back, "but don't blame me if you fell ill because you were too stupid to keep warm."

"I'm not the one who almost froze himself getting here." Roy said teasingly, pulling fingers through Ed's heavy braid and hooking the tie loose, allowing the hair to spill free. Softly, he asked, "Ed, where's your red coat?"

"Gone. I left it behind."

Roy frowned. There were still gaps in his knowledge the Elric brothers' history, but he knew enough to know what the black symbol embroidered on the back of the red coat meant, and its significance towards Ed.

Ed's eyes were half-slitted again, but this time the golden orbs under his eyelids shone with alertness. "I rather leave the coat than leave my life behind."

There was a long, poignant paused, punctuated only by the crackle of wood smoldering into ash and the myriad emotions that washed through Roy at Ed's words; he wondered if Ed, tipping his head back and peering up slightly at Roy, saw any of it through his eyes.

Finally, he tucked the golden head comfortably under his chin, and murmured, "Go to sleep. You've had a long day."

He felt fingers tighten in the fabric of his blue jacket and heard a little sigh. "You too, Roy. Tell me what's wrong in the morning, alright?"

Roy nodded infinitesimally, but Edward was already out like a light, breath deep and even, as if he trusted Roy enough to know his reply without seeing it.

-----

"Are you busy, or should I come back another time?" came that familiar voice that simply reeked of long windedness and shared camaraderie. Roy jerked forward in surprise at the sudden sound before stopping rigidly, afraid of jolting awake the precious bundle asleep on his lap.

In hindsight, he should have expected to see Hughes here; the man simply could not resist the scandal that was Roy and Edward. Even a war, Roy mused, could not distract Hughes from adding his unwanted two cents on the situation.

"How are things back at home base?" he asked quickly, hoping to head off the conversation before Hughes could bend the topic out of shape.

"Not very well," the bespectacled man replied, eyes settling pointedly on Ed, "but certainly better than I thought, if Ed managed to make it out here faster than I did."

"Elaborate."

"Wild bush fires. The enemy isn't advancing, but internal strife amongst the higher ups can almost make up for it," Hughes shrugged. "There… has been talk of sending your team off on a solo hunt against the head. Take out the command center of the snake, and the body dies, so they say," here, Hughes paused for a moment, before lowering his voice, "They also wanted to send the Full Metal Alchemist with you, but it was vetoed. By General Hakuro, in fact. The debate's still up in the air; it could go either way. Of course, Edward bailing out without reporting in will certainly make things difficult for them."

It was a short enough summary that left the unsaid out in the open. _You're being marked. _

And Edward…

"I know we don't have the time for it," Hughes kept his voice low, "but how deep is it?"

Roy's eyes narrowed briefly, the only sign that signaled the sudden turn of conversation to something deep and personal. "I'm not sure what you are implying, Lieutenant Col-"

The glint of firelight reflected off Hughes' glasses, shrouding his eyes, but his voice was tired, almost sad. "Don't, Roy. Haven't we both lost too much to be lying to each other? I have my family, but ambition alone isn't going to cut it for you. And I can sit here the entire night," he added, for good measure, "and while you can't move or use your alchemy in fear of waking your sleeping beauty, I can sit here and _keep you company_ all night." And with that, Hughes sank down as comfortably against the rocky surface, pining Roy with an unblinking stare designed to wear away his nerves when speaking or making loud noises wasn't advisable, hands already twitching towards the inner pocket that Roy knew held the sole photograph of the man's beloved daughter.

"It's strong," Roy said at last. "It's deep and it's serious, but I don't know how far it goes. How far it _can_ go. Is there any reason you think it might not work?" He tried to eye Hughes, but found himself staring at his own reflection refracted off lenses; sometimes he _really_ hated those glasses. There were times when Roy trusted Hughes' judgment far more than his own, and if the bespectacled man thought there was anything damaging…

"Oh no, from what I've seen, it's worked wonders. He's good for you." Hughes declared with a floppy smile, tilting his head so the glasses slanted upward, allowing the two to see eye-to-eye. "I'm just not sure if you're good for him."

Hughes reached forward and ran a rough hand across the top of Ed's head, causing the blonde to let out a rough growl against Roy's collar. "I wouldn't worry too much about it," he told a wary looking Roy, "because if I had done that to him at any other time, you _know_ that he'll be all over my face for startling him out of his sleep. He'll attack first; ask questions later and than he'll growl at me to not treating him like a child."

He gave Roy a floppy smile, eyes curving into crescents behind his frames. "It's a testament, you know. How he does nothing while asleep in your arms."

Roy's head throbbed for a moment. "It's a terrifying thought that I'm starting to understand your horrible circle of logic; even more so when it's vaguely reassuring."

"It's not really that hard. You're both worth far too much trouble, like – let's see – two unstable elements in a reaction. A little too much or too little either way, and it's going to blow. Just the slightest touch with the wrong intentions might set you two off into some irreversible disaster."

"Are you trying to make an alchemic analogy?" Roy asked.

Hughes shrugged negligibly. "You're the one who was always muttering about the wild card in your alchemy research." He pitched his voice slightly lower, trying to mimic Roy's smooth tone, "'Sometimes it takes a truly unique and unadvisable factor to take a reaction to the next level.' That's what you said before test-striking that spark material in a room full of pure oxygen you had manipulated even after most of the older alchemist told you to stick to something less fancy and dangerous than flame alchemy."

Roy allowed his eyes to flutter shut. "Before I almost blew up the room with both you and I in it, you mean," he muttered in a _what's-the-point-of-this-conversation _tone.

"Technicalities. Besides, it was thanks to your perfect control that the flame took out the far side of the wall, not us. And because of that, you have the spark gloves, right? Sneakier and easier to hide than using an open flame in pitch black darkness. The point is… you might get burnt, but it isn't going to stop you, is it?"

Both sets of eyes gravitated towards the sleeping blonde.

Hughes stood up, leaning forward and thoroughly musing Roy's hair, turning the raven locks into a disheveled bird's nest. "Well, that's it for now," he chimed cheerfully, backing away slowly from Roy's murderous glare.

"The rest of the report?" Roy asked pointedly, ignoring the fact that they've been talking about everything _but _the report in the last half hour or so.

"Later. I won't pull you back down into your smooth, unemotional Colonel act after all Edward had to do."

"Maes-"

"I'll have to inform the rest of your immediate officers that you're finally sane and approachable."

"Maes, _what_–"

"Well, since you insist. I'll compose a formal report to dictate to you at pre-dawn; that's early enough for you, isn't it? There're some things I need to check, however, so I might have to bother your border patrol and…"

Roy watched Hughes walk away, voice trailing into nothingness, mildly irritated at his long time friend, and contemplated snapping a little fire in his direction. His fingers remained still, however, one hand still ungloved in its position upon Ed's shoulder.

He shifted back tiredly, still amazed that Ed managed to sleep through it all, and spent the rest of the night with Edward curled securely in his arms, watching the illusions painted by the flames that were his namesake blaze steadily for long moments before shutting his eyes and leaning his head against the crown of Ed's.

**end**

**More AN: **Not entirely sure when the next part will come out; uni is literally eating away my life. There will be more coming, though I make no promises on _when_ they'll come. I'll do my best, so drop me a review, con/crit or any comments you want.


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